“I’d never pity you, Rowan,” he says sincerely.
“Fine,” I say in defeat, but quickly add, “Just this once. Don’t get used to me giving in so easily when you try to overtip again. Got it?”
He chuckles, enjoying this way too much. “Sure, whatever you say.”
I groan with a smile. He’s so damn stubborn sometimes.
“Do you remember the night of your eighth grade winter formal?” he asks after I input the tip amount and take out the cash, stuffing it into my apron.
“What?” I ask, scrunching my nose. “That was like…ten years ago. Why do you ask?”
“Because I remember it like it was yesterday and wondered if you did too.”
I swallow hard because I do remember and even found myself recalling it not too long ago. How could I forget my first kiss? Or that it was with Diesel.
“Um…yeah, kinda. I guess.” I blush, thinking about it.
Before he can continue, Kenzie comes up to me. “All done. Chairs are up, floors are swept, garnishes are stocked. Do you need me to do anything else?” she asks.
I think about the closing checklist, but I can’t really concentrate on anything other than the fact that Diesel has chosen tonight to bring up a memory that’s haunted me for years. “Nope, I think that’s all. Once I cash those guys out, I’ll just have receipts to go through, and then I’ll close up.”
“Do you mind if I go? I know I’m supposed to so you aren’t alone, but—”
“I’ll stay with her,” Diesel interjects. “That way you don’t have to wait, and Rowan doesn’t have to close alone.”
“Are you sure?” Kenzie asks eagerly. She must have plans, but it’s almost two a.m., so I can’t imagine she’d be doing anything this late. Then again, she is almost twenty-one and on her college summer break, so anything’s possible.
“I was gonna stay anyway, so go right ahead,” he tells her. The two of them don’t even ask what I think about it, but honestly, I’m glad they don’t because my throat has suddenly gone dry.
The final patrons pay their bill, and I follow them to the door so I can lock it and flip over the open sign. Nerves tickle my skin as I walk back around the bar and feel his eyes on me. We’ve been around each other for most of our lives but hardly ever alone. And never in this kind of situation.
Honestly, most of my memories with Diesel are of him aggravating the shit outta me. He finds ways to tease me, and I always ignore him the best I can. But ever since I’ve moved back and he threatened Nick, there’s been a shift between us.
An indescribable one.
“I remember the exact dress you wore that night,” he says, my back turned to him as I print out the end of day reports. “Probably makes me sound like a creep, but—”
“A little.” I chuckle. “But I remember the song we danced to, so it’s not any less creepy than that, I suppose.”
Turning around, I see his intense gaze on me. Butterflies swarm my stomach as I watch his expression.
“Why are you asking about that night?” My voice is soft.
Diesel shrugs. “I actually heard that song on the radio recently, and it reminded me of my first kiss.”
I blink hard and retreat a step. “Wait, what?” Tilting my head, I study his face and then my eyes lock on his. “That…that wasn’t your first kiss.”
The corner of his lips tilts, amusement written all over his face. “Actually, it was.” He furrows his brows. “Why’s that so surprising?”
“Well, considering your history…” I chuckle anxiously. “I just assumed you started kissing girls in kindergarten or something.”
He laughs, his shoulders relaxing. “I probably did, but those don’t count. Our kiss that night…”
“That counted?” I ask, my cheeks flush by the direction our conversation went. Diesel’s rarely serious, and things feel different with him tonight. That kiss affected me, more than I was willing to admit at the time, but nevertheless, it sparked numerous fantasies as I bloomed into a teenager.
“It did,” he states honestly. “But I thought maybe it didn’t mean as much to you since you seemed to hate me after that.”
“I didn’t hate you,” I blurt out. “I was thirteen and…awkward.”
“Then why’d you lash out at me after I took you home?”
“I don’t know.” I suck in my lower lip, shrugging. “After Riley suspected us, I guess I figured that if I pushed you away first, then you couldn’t reject me.” I shrug again, embarrassed. “Teenage girl insecurities.”
Narrowing his eyes, he rests his forearms on the bar. “You’re the one who called me gross,” he reminds me. “I denied it so Riley wouldn’t punch me in the face, and afterward, you avoided me like a bad haircut.”
“It was ten years ago, Diesel,” I emphasize. “We were kids.”